


The Awkward Days of Bear and Pup

by theosymphany



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkward!Piers, Character Thoughts, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Humor, M/M, Men Crying, NSFW, Nivanfield, Piers has moved in with Chris, Piers is mostly OK, Post RE6, Spooning, things that Piers like about Chris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-23 08:38:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3761854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theosymphany/pseuds/theosymphany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nivanfield domestic fluff.  Just one of many awkward mornings between Chris and Piers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breathe.  Hold.  Breathe.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PuppyPiers69](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=PuppyPiers69), [RedfieldandNivans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedfieldandNivans/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piers wakes up and has an urgent problem to attend to.

~~~

“Mmmhhhh”

His voice was raspy and parched.  His body racked with intense heat. 

“I need it bad Captain!”  The desperation was mounting, there was only one overwhelming sensation commanding all his attention.

He was bounced along the larger man’s thighs.  The sniper was trapped in a grip of steel, wanting to be held, wanting to be crushed yet also desperately needing release. 

"Let me go!"  He wiggled his chest against the arms of iron, breathing heavily. 

“Ahhh, I need it so bad.  I need release _right now_.”

The buildup of fluids, as with his willpower, has reached the event horizon.

“CAPTAIN!!  Ahhhhh…”

Followed by the sensation of sweet release…

 ~~~

_  
SHIT!_

The blackness dissolved to tendrils of grey.   A jolt.  Then Piers was back in his body.

Oh shit.  Did I?

Keeping his eyes closed, the sniper felt the slight chill of the morning air on his face.  The faint bird song, the soft glow from the windows.  _It’s still early_ , he thought groggily. 

He remembered bits of the dream and a smile spread across his lips.  As if on cue, two sensations instantly returned.  One was that his ribs were actually being crushed in a bear hug.  The other was that he still desperately, desperately needed  _release_.

He flexed his aching member.  _I’m still dry.  Phew._ _Dreams are dangerous, that was so close._

_Thank the heavensssss._

_But, I still need to gooooooo_.

Piers opened his eyes slowly.  Crap.  He breathed heavily and steadily, not wanting to leave the warm clutches of his Captain for the chilling morning air.  This was not good.  Only two things lie in the way of his much needed release.  The secure grip of the Captain’s arms around his sides, and his own giant piss boner threatening to burst. 

Hmm.  No.  There was a third _thing_.  He felt the Captain’s hardness and warmth just behind his left cheek.  _Oh goodness.  The torture_.  His breathing intensified.  Almost in reflex, Piers switched to sniper breathing control to combat the urgency.  _In.  STOP.  Out.  In.  STOP.  Out._

 _No no no, not out!  Ok, **out** is not a good word.  Nothing is coming out. _ _No, it’s not.  Come on, sniper breath control._ _Breathe.  Stop.  Breathe.  Breathe.  Stop.  Breathe.  No no, **stop** isn’t a good word either. _

 _Hold._  

_Breathe.  Hold.  Breathe._

_Breathe.  Hold.  Breathe._

He listened for Chris’ breathing behind him, for any telltale signs of him being awake, but the Captain was still quietly taking deep, slow breaths.  Claire joked when Piers first moved in that her brother sleeps like a hibernating bear, though not through atomic warfare anymore.  The years of training as a soldier did improve that one fact she supposed. 

Fact was, Chris is a giant of a man, but a big softie in his sleep.  Sure, Chris and Piers all have their own bouts of nightmares and PTSD fighting BOWs, but the dozing Captain was a peaceful sign to behold, or Piers' current predicament, be-held. 

 _I could stay like this forever._ Piers thought.  _If it wasn’t for the fact I’m gonna burst like fireworks on 4 th of July.  Wait, it’s waterworks.  Nooo.  Bad Piers.  Don’t think about water!_

Chris doesn’t snore, at least, not unless he had been out on missions for days and only slept on damp grass or in a tent or something, but he does breathe very deeply and slowly.  It was one of the little things Piers liked about Chris.  Just the perfect white noise when he needed to clear his own head and get to bed.  Some days he marvelled at Chris’ lung capacity when trying to copy his breaths.

By concentrating on his hearing though, Piers was made more and more aware of the iron grip on his ribs and the warmth on his butt.  _Gosh, spooning is a blessing and a curse._ Piers had grown accustomed to the weight on his chest oh so quickly, and now needed to hug a pillow to sleep whenever Chris was sent off for a few days. 

It didn't hurt either that Piers had an appreciative eye for fine forearms and he could spend forever studying Chris’.  Girthy, firm muscle that only yield the slightest to the grip.  The contrast of bulging veins and soft brown hairs on glowing skin.  A firm touch that relents only to demand and will.  The fine layers of muscle on muscle.  Still, he needed to sneak out.  Thinking about Chris was not helping his boner remain his last bastion of defense against negotiating for a new mattress. 

_Breathe.  HOLD.  Breathe._

He took in that familiar _Chris_ scent that Piers loved waking up to.  Warm and clean with just the slightest hint of musk.  _If only he didn’t drink that beer last night_ , Piers thought.  _No more bear 3 hours before sleep.  I mean beer.  Or bear.  Wait what?  It’s too early in the morning!_

 _A sniper has control over all things_ , he recited in his head.  _His body.  His arm.  His gun.  His allies, his enemies are all at the sniper’s mercy._

_Except my freaking gun is about to leak omg._

_Control, Piers, control!  Breathe.  HOLD.  Breathe.  A sniper has control over all things.  A sniper has control over all things._

This scenario only happened way too often now.  It was not easy escaping the Captain’s clutches.  Some nights Piers felt like the straw in the grasps of a drowning man.  Some nights Piers felt he was the soft toy a child clutches to ward off the demons of imagination and nightmares.  Some nights Piers was the one who needed to be held safe.  Either way, he liked it and it helped that Chris likes to sleep in a cold room but radiates body heat like a mini furnace.  He also liked the feel of Chris’ soft cotton V necks against his bare back.  Piers had mostly forgone sleeping with his shirt on ever since Chris admitted to having a thing for backs.

 _Although if I keep this up my damned boner’s going to rip a hole in my briefs_.  At that thought, Piers clenched his PC muscles to keep it in.   _I'm not going to wet the bed goddamnit._  But he _was_ going to have a very sore boner later.  After all, he was known to be something of an expert on willpower and self-control in the BSAA since surviving the underwater facility AND reversing his mutation seemingly by sheer force of will.  This should be nothing in comparison.

_Breathe in.  Hold.  Out.  No no no, not out._

_Breathe.  Hold.  Breathe._

_Breathe.  Hold.  Breathe._

While so focused on his own breathing the keen sniper hadn't realise that Chris’ heavy breathing had softened.  Piers could swear he felt the slightest wiggle of the warm flesh on his butt and... _was that a light poke?_  This was followed by the firm fingers on his sides giving a slight squeeze.  Piers drew his longest breath.  _Ah, I can escape now.  Sweet release is mine!_

The fingers gave a light tickle.  _Noooo!_   Piers shook, a chuckle escaping from his lips.  The air had escaped from his lungs almost too quickly, breaking the steady rhythm he finally attained.  He clenched his abs tight in anticipation to further tickling.

But he forgot to clench something else...

 _OH SHIT!_  

~~~

Chris gave a small shudder as the cold air met his body.  He couldn’t help but grin goofily watching Piers frantically hop to the bathroom, oblivious to the growing bull’s eye seeping over Piers’ taunt red briefs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My debut fanfic. I haven't written creative fiction for a very long time so apologies if things may be a little messy.  
> This is a scene I had in my mind. Always loved the image of Chris and Piers spooning, and I extracted further details on how they sleep from RedfieldandNivans. I dedicate this to them and to puppypiers69 who likes happy fluffy stuff.  
> Actually I was writing something else but got distracted to write this. I’m sure that’s happened to many a writer before writing about PxC.  
> Comments and critique welcomed.  
> Edit: This work now has 4 chapters!


	2. Blanket  Burrito

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piers now has the perfect opening to get the Captain back. Like all perfect openings, there is a butt. I mean, but.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. Smut warning. Additional warning- this may leave you high and dry. Locked and loaded. Cocked and clucked.

Piers sat on the icy ring and quietly exhaled.  For now, he was not caring about his little mess in the corner, the sting in his diaphragm or the burning heat at the tip of his ears.  His fingers were busy pointing the rigid and sore member downwards, and trying not to touch the bowl, painful as it was to do so.  For now, the only thing that matters is one of the greatest pleasures known to man.  

 _Damn Chris and his evil ploys_ , Piers thought as his mind began to ascend above the mortal realm while his bladder relaxed.  His senses were in a transcendent plane, where there were strange sparkles of colours and light.  He got enough reminders daily already of his boyishness since moving in with the former most eligible bachelor of the BSAA, but now to have a near bathroom accident?  On the bed?  That puppy nickname had better not stick!

After a long and enjoyable release, a weary but satisfied Piers gave a shudder as the remnant dregs of his discomfort left his body.  The screaming sensation of fullness has relaxed, only to be replaced with a dull and sapping ache in his groin.  He looked down and shook himself, giving the sore tube of tender flesh a light squeeze, but no sooner had he lifted his eyes did he recognise the musclebound silhouette at the door, still as a statue, quiet as a mouse.

Piers froze as his own heartbeat suddenly thundered loud and clear.  His trembling gaze found the stoic figure with his observant, dark chocolate eyes studying his naked form, burning with humour and intrigue.  There was just enough light to make out a left dimple betraying a smirk of judgement, brawny forearms in all their sinewy glory crossed over a grey v-neck, and the lines of fitting grey boxer briefs contorted by the engorged contours of _the Redfield salami_ pointing oh so very right.  Right at Piers, in fact.

The gaze was unmoved, but flickered briefly to the discarded, half-bright-half-dull red briefs in the corner followed by a raised eyebrow.  The Captain was silent.  Silently judging.  Silently observing.  Silently _teasing_.

Piers suddenly was reminded of how very naked and very cold he was and could feel his dignity descend into the porcelain.  He knew Chris well enough to know it really wasn’t a big deal, but this was embarrassing all the same.  Life with Chris Redfield might as well be known as “ ** _The Awkward Days of Bear and Pup_** ”.  Right now, the normally composed, esteemed and respected lieutenant was seated on the porcelain throne, legs apart, hips thrust down, naked as the day he’s born, fingers still on his deflating and sore manhood and had unwittingly exhibited his most private ritual.  

 _Whoops_. 

Piers gave his lips a little pout and tried his best to pretend to casually lift an eyebrow without a twitch, not trusting anything coming out of his mouth to not heap fuel on the flames of awkwardness already burning through his skin.

The bemused Captain, on the other hand, was relishing in Piers' naked glory.  Piers was beautiful, even with the splayed limbs and awkward position.  In the veteran's eyes the faint crisscross of red and white streaks running over Piers' right arm and sides were his most treasured part of Piers, a volume of countless words of devotion dedicated to his Captain, telling of the bounty of his love and the full measure of his sacrifice.  Although it was neither a quick nor easy transition, Chris and Piers both accepted what those scars had meant, and even more, how much more important is each day present and each day in the future rather than regretting the lost months and years overcoming their respective nightmares and demons.  Chris was actually touched that despite his compromising position Piers' instinct was neither to cover himself nor to turn away at his scars on display, not that there was much to hide anymore, or to hide with.

“So you left me all c-cold and empty for this?”  The husky, deep voice betrayed the tiniest crack, coarse from the morning air.  Chris decided to quit while he was ahead lest he embarrass the reddening soldier further.  “I would have thought a sniper could hit the target anywhere, anytime, any…position.”  The veteran couldn’t help but tease though.  It was getting rarer to find his subordinate flustered and embarrassed now that he had grown to be more confident in his own abilities and his partnership, but Chris just loved armour penetrating moments like these which left Piers all cute and defenseless and rookie cookie.

“Uh…uh-ahem…uh well, Captain, how about you try peeing with morning wood and make it look sexy?”  Piers said, taking a moment to find his own voice.  He noticed the throb on those grey briefs, and the very full bulge it displayed.  The Captain wasn’t up just because he wanted to tease.  A man’s gotta take care of one thing first and foremost every morning.  “Besides, only _filthy casual hand gunners_ would care about form.  A sniper cares only about delivering the payload.”  His sass was fast returning with his comfort, "...and not missing the mark."

"The memory might be vague for you now, but a young virile guy like me always points straight up.  If you’re dipping it down Captain, _you’re doing it wrong_.  Or should I say rather, _I’m sorry age hasn’t been kind to you_.”  Piers stood up and washed his hands.  He deserved the smarting smack on his butt for that comment, but that, along with the slight twitch on the whisker speckled face only confirmed the gunner's concede at the verbal bout. 

Piers warmed up a spare hand towel under the hot water and wiped himself, letting out a soft moan his sore little soldier enjoyed the relief from the warm wrap and massage.  He was taking his time partly because it felt so good, and partly so he could gawk at the larger man, feet _very_ apart, hips angling awkwardly as the room resounds once again with echoes of cascading waters.  Yep, he was pointing down all right.   _That had to hurt.  You really should try seating down_ , Piers thought.  That said, Captain booty with that hip angle was damned delicious.  He _could_ actually make peeing with morning wood look sexy.

It was getting cold.  Piers considered getting back into bed, but he needed to get Chris back for his dishonourable start to the day.  He rinsed the towel, passed it to Chris, flicked the thermostat on and climbed back to bed.

~~ 

Chris walked back to the bed to realise that his pillow was gone, and Piers had burritoed himself head to toe with all of the blankets and the pillow.  The larger man sighed, found the butt on the slender frame and smacked hard through the padding.  Soon the partners were engaged in a ferocious wrestle, with Piers throwing his body weight to keep the burrito tight while Chris tried entry on all fronts, eventually pinning the wriggling mess of sheets and body between his strong thighs.  He was caught off guard by a shin to his sensitive orbs, the cotton briefs offering no protection.  Thankfully it was only a playful tap through the blanket but it was enough to make the burly figure roll to his side for a moment and let out a deep groan clutching the tender flesh.  Having recovered his strength, Chris dug at the camouflaged sniper and picked up lover, blanket and pillow in one go.

“Woah!  Hey that wasn’t fair!”  Piers’ muffled voice squealed at the sudden hoist, then he felt the blanket cocoon held by Chris in another tight hug.  He could feel the hard body of his Captain beneath the blanket, his own lithe frame squeezed between the crushing arms and the scissors of powerful thighs.  He attempted to rain a flurry of blows on the muscled fortress below, but despite his efforts, soon the captive lieutenant was unravelled from the safety of the warm soft sheets, and Chris wormed his way into the new burrito for two.  Piers was held tightly right on top of Chris, face to face, chest to chest, staring into those deep grinning eyes.  Damn the Captain was adorable from this angle.  Piers put on his "killer" pout and rubbed his nose at Chris’ knowing how much that drove him crazy.  The larger man responded with a chesty laugh and retaliated by grazing his overnight stubble into the ace’s handsome face.  Piers had to close his eyes and pulled a face at Chris.  Stubble on Chris was hot, but stubble burn was not, at least not against Piers’ own smooth features.

The stubble was replaced by the thick coarse lips finding his own.  The pairs of lips now engage in their own wrestle, each pair teasing and attempting to gain entry to another.  Breaths became shorter and hotter, and Piers rolled up Chris’ shirt to grind his smooth chest into the slight mat of dark brown hair over those impossibly tight pecs.  His fingers dug into the hard earned muscles of the Redfield back.  The tango of the lips has now segued to a whirlwind ballet of deceit and discovery, a thundering game of tag, a flurry of slobber.  Piers could feel the Captain's nipples harden along with his own, and the warmth from the stout and fired up soldier quickly erased any unwelcome cold from room.

“ _Top me_?”  The Captain’s husky voice betrayed his lust.  The smell of Chris had intensified within the confined space.  Piers removed Chris’ rolled up shirt and pushed it to the side, his full luscious lips working its way down Chris’ neck and collarbone.  He felt the Captain’s hardness already complaining under his hips, the sizeable flesh swollen with desire and wriggled for attention, trapped in the fabric. 

_Fuck._

Mornings like these were so damned good.  Bouncy young Piers gets horned up any time of the day, but he knew the Captain's desires were always the strongest right in the mornings.  Chris Redfield was a man who oozes and bathes in testosterone, and Piers could almost bottle and sell that stuff right off the Captain’s desire ridden body in the early mornings.

Piers nudged his nose at Chris’ armpit to take in the Captain’s scent, relaxing as the aroma and warmth assaulted his senses and took its effect.  It was just a very comforting smell that Piers had come to equate with safety, security and intimacy.  Some days after sparring practice with the Captain Piers had to all but take a cold shower to resist jumping at him in the presence of the other squaddies or at least hide the effect from the Boots.  Even in missions Piers was only too keenly aware that many a rescued civilian had fallen charm to the olfactory allure of the active, on duty Captain in uniform.  Chris just relaxed and let Piers do his thing.  It was slightly awkward at first how his curious partner always playfully explored and savoured his scent like a pup, but Chris had just pegged it as one of Piers' quirky loves.  Besides, it was a hell of an ego boost to relish in the effects he was having on the boy.

The energetic ace traced the dime sized nipples with his fingers and his tongue as he felt the Captain’s naughty bulge teasing at his chest and navel.  Chris’ hands were clutching the sheets as the tension built, but the sniper was sure taking his time hunting his prey and leaving his mark.

Piers traced the Captain’s textured obliques with his slender fingers.  He was trying to tickle Chris back for initiating the little accident earlier, but Chris wassn’t as ticklish as he is.  Not on his sides anyway with that armour of muscle.  No, Piers found out recently he would have to arrange fun times with the Captain’s ample feet to make him beg, but that was not going to work in the current burrito predicament.  He could feel the Captain’s fingers at his waist, trying to find Piers’ piercing appendage, to thumb the sensitive flesh and bait the sniper into faster action.  The thick, impatient fingers squeezed his sides and teased at his stomach, the gun roughened callouses abrading the smooth taunt flesh trying to find the renowned golden rifle of the BSAA.  But for once, Chris clutched at straws, or rather, the lack of one.

 

_Piers.  Wasn’t.  Hard.  
_

 

God damn it.

In fact, the once proud and loaded sniper barrel was incredibly sore, and the slow cramps still wriggling within his groin signified the renowned marksman that it was the fatigue for holding it on the boner for so long.  Young or not, taming boners had a price. 

“ _Cap-capTIN' ,I swear this has never happened to me before._ ”  The embarrassed lieutenant pondered if he could pull that cliched line with Chris in his head, complete with pouty lips and pleading eyes.  However, he knew provoking the bear then leaving it in a blind rage with no outlet was a recipe for regret.  That, and the fact that Chris will never let the soon-to-be-ex sniper live this down.  Piers cursed his awkward luck.  The one opportune time Chris is begging to be topped and teased, pegged and pencilled... just had to be the same blundering moment where the ace lost the bite in his bark, the rounds in his rifle, the steel in his bullet.

 

_God damn it._

 

Still, like any ace, Piers has one last trick as he fervently distracted the Captain with his delicate fingertips.

 

_Breathe.  Hold.  Breathe._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG PuppyPiers don't kill me :P. I can't believe I did that. Awkward!Piers is so adorable.  
> Um, my debut sexy time scene, I have no idea what I'm doing. I have no idea what Piers is going to be doing either, ha ha ha.  
> R&N might recognize the blanket burrito moment from one of the #Dog Tags :).  
> There will be more eventually, though time is at a premium now.  
> Edited to set this formally in Post RE6 timeline. As much as I hate to do it, it took the near death experience of RE6 for the two to finally quit waiting, quit second guessing and start living. For the two lovers, every moment in the past was a memory, the present is a gift, and in the future is a blessing.


	3. From Legend to Legend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piers hears the message from Chris' heart in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a mood change in this chapter. I'm sorry if it's abrupt but I feel it needed to be there, that intimacy opens the way to emotions. In the absence of multiple canon fics I'm not skilled enough to blend it all in so I'll just take Piers' advice in the chapter and 'stop excusing and start building'.

Piers focused all his energies on his fingertips, fingers drumming like raindrops across the broad chest of his commanding officer.  Ruffling the soft mat of brown hairs, massaging the bulging layers of muscles beneath.  He was definitely taking his time.  He knew the Captain’s arousal had flared and was getting increasing worked up, but…this was just not one of those rough and ready days.

“Chrisssssy…” he whispered his partner's bedroom name.  “Let me please you.”  And with a flick of his tongue over the full lips, the older man was leashed.  Why settle for sex when you can make love?

Piers lightly kneaded Chris’ burly shoulders and pecs.  He knew it would do good for his lover after his weights session the day before.  Piers promised himself for now to put aside distractions of his own.  For now, he just wanted to make his lover happy.  Because he deserves it.

Chris laid back, slowing his breaths as the slender fingers worked their magic.  He couldn’t ignore the throbbing from his boner, but already he could feel the tension draining from his upper body from the confident and firm touch over his strained muscles.  Every touch, every squeeze- slow, rhythmic and deliberate.  Never too light or unsure; never too heavy or reckless.  Chris closed his eyes and surrendered his body.  All he could do is moan his lover’s name, and to respect his desires, to bask completely in this gift of lavish attention.

“Pierssss.”  The name rolled off the tongue like a billow of the wind.  Piers was kissing the bulging muscles with his lips.  The teasing pout was gone from his face, replaced with equal parts concentration, devotion and dedication.  With the Captain’s body beneath him, strong arms on his pale shoulders, and the warmth of the blanket still warding out the cold, Piers was overtaken by the security and bond which the lover had come to meant.

He gently sank his teeth to the battle hardened flesh, running circles with his tongue over every little wound and scar on the veteran’s body.  He applied just enough pressure for the muscle to give, but none to actually mark the treasured flesh.  His fingers were working the Captain’s loins, sending thrills of pleasure and teasing as the ribs rose and fell with staggered breaths.  His intimacy and service was rewarded by the steady arms holding him still against his chest, lightly caressing the soft hair of cream and coffee.  Piers paused at the intimacy, laid still and listened to the unrelenting heartbeats of his partner, his keen senses soon picking up the difference between that and his own, two matching rhythms that slowly blended as one as the two souls swoon at the edge of morning tranquility, rediscovering what it meant to be truly alive again.

Chris kept stroking the light latte hair in the moment of harmony watching the golden rays climb through the windows.  Words had vapourised as he was reminded of how kind fate had been to reunite the pair after years of missing one another.  Having felt the pain of searing loss only too well Chris didn’t trust his heart to not burst open and forever split in two should any more harm come to his light and conscience.  He held on to his devoted companion tightly, taking sight of the peaceful image of sweet Piers on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.  He wanted Piers to hear the unsung song of his soul, a dance composed and powered by his life's essence.  A gushing volume of love and gratitude, of lust and desire, of companionship and duty, an all-consuming pledge that coursed through his veins day and night.  He felt a tear run down his chest, then two, and a gentle quiver of the creamy body beneath his palm.  His lust forgotten, all Chris could do was to pat and rub the back of his lover’s neck, right between his ears as his torso glistened with the burst of emotion and repressed pain.

Piers laid still, head still buried on the soft mat of fur as the gates of hurt and gates of gratitude overflowed from his soul onto his lover’s chest.  It was going to be a day of leaking fluids, and for once, he was not holding back. 

_Chris is alive.  I am alive.  Life can be beautiful again._

It had been such a tumultuous 4 years.  The joys of finding his course and purpose in the BSAA gave way to the uncertainty and doubt meeting the living legend that was Chris Redfield.  Those uncertain days of trying to get noticed, trying to be perfect, trying to not be seen as trying.  Those quiet evenings of pondering, of 'does he’s, of 'what if's, of 'he loves me not's, of 'could we’s, of 'who am I’s and 'will we ever’s had all but twisted and churned his tender heart to mince.  The joys and security of their newfound partnership on the field did little to confirm any of Piers’ hopes in anything beyond officer and soldier, and even the tragedy in 2012 only served to remind the futility and frailty of life itself, let alone the heaven and hells of the last 12 months which almost separated the pair forever.

Chris allowed his lover space for his moment.  He had came to recognize that those were not all tears of pain.  He had been foolishly ignorant from the start of just how deep his subordinate’s emotions had run, and how much he had became the centre and the security of all his existence.  He knew that Piers needed to hear his heart.  The Chris Redfield of the past was the cause of so much loss, partly due to pride, partly due to stupidity and stubbornness, but he was buried in the deepest seas the day Piers went down in the underground facility.  Chris had vowed since then that a compassionate, worthy man would arise in his place, a man worthy of the regard in the memory of his most excellent partner.  This Chris Redfield shall no longer be rash and insensitive, nor will he hesitate in articulating what he knows his lover will need to hear.  He took Piers’ right hand in his left, while still embracing him in his right.  He began in a gentle voice, almost like a chant.

“ _ **Pierson Nivans**_.  You are my one love.  You have given me everything you could, and I’m the luckiest guy living to call you mine.  I was the hero of your dreams, the statue on your golden pedestal, but like all false gods, I fell.  I fell harder than the rest, crumbling in pieces and crushed your heart right when you needed me the most.  I was your burden when you needed strength, your thorn when you needed comfort, your demon when you needed peace and your disappointment when you needed hope.  I ran away like a coward and a fool, leaving behind the one man who still saw any good in me.  You followed me through your heartache, and you did not back down when I hurt you or insulted you or in the end all but forgotten you.  You took me as I was, and rebuilt me in your image.  Not with sticks, not with stones, but with your tender love and undying admiration.  You gave back to me all the pride and compassion which I had lost, you broke my walls and made me whole from the inside.  You gave me a second chance, a third chance, a fourth chance and a fifth chance.  You showed no fear when I brought you to hell with me seeking to go all out in revenge, and instead you paid my price three times over for my transgression.  You did what no man ever could.  You restored the lost hero of the BSAA, and in doing so, took up residence in the Halls of Legends yourself.”

Piers had laid still as the baritone voice rang with truths and painful memories of those bitter day and nights.  He remembered the pain and agony in his heart, the candle of hope was reduced to all but a flicker as the once mighty captain became a stranger and a nemesis, but the flame remained, and with it he rekindled the warmth and light in the man he is with today.  He had made a way through which there was no way, he had survived what he could not so Chris would not be left behind.  Piers Nivans had become known as the epitome of will and miracle in the BSAA.  But Piers was just being Piers.

“As you adored me, so I now adore you”.  Chris continued quietly.  He had told this tale to the hurting lieutenant once in a moment of self-defeat, but it deserved to be mentioned again and again.  “Legends are forged through fire and hardship.  We are but two broken peas in a crucible pod of fire, and all we can do is let the fire refine all of our dross and weaknesses away until we’re left with the truest strength of character.  You overcame a terminal infection and made a recovery like no other had.  You kept your humanity when lesser men had faltered.  You brought back the burden whom nobody would retrieve, and you fought for me when I no longer believed.  Above all, you are the spring in my heart of winter.  The waters of life which fed my soul; the blossoms of change which broke the cold.  You showed me how to love and be loved again.  You showed me how to stop existing and start living, to stop excusing and start rebuilding.  If you believe that Chris Redfield is a legend, then Pierson Nivans is a legend, because only a God could rebuild what mortals could not.  Only you, my equal could find and restore what I could not.  And now you're stuck with me, because I sure as the sun will rise will not give you up for any other.”

 _“I.  Adore.  You_.”  He raised Piers to his side, and kissed him deeply on his forehead, the first rays of dawn anointing the pair with an angelic glow.

Piers leaned forward, tears running again at the heartfelt words.  He pressed his sensitive lips on the prickly stubble of his lover’s cheek, a reminder that he still has, from then to now, a heart and soul of tender flesh.

“I love you too, Captain” Piers said quietly. 

 

“But... we still wet the bed in the end.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked the chapter, I have a song written just for a moment just like this. A Nivanfield song specifically from the hearts of Chris and Piers, embedded above or at  
> https://soundcloud.com/theosymphany/what-did-i-do-to-deserve-you
> 
> This is a slightly awkward tribute to RedfieldandNivan's True Strength, but I don't really know how else for Chris to voice his heart than in dialogue. Anyway, the Captain should give a rousing speech once in a while right? The difficult days have already passed at this point.


	4. A Dance In Four Acts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intimacy and ascension.  
> Top!Piers, need I say more?

“...but we still wet the bed in the end.”

“Piers, baby, that’s… err… actually not the only thing that’s wet.” It was Chris’ turn to be awkward. He flexed his throbbing member with a chuckle and the younger man broke into a toothy grin despite his eyes still being red and watery when he felt the sudden dampness at his hip. His earlier massage must have caused the Captain to have sprung quite a leak judging from the impressive dark spot over the entire right side of Chris’ briefs.

The two men paused for a warm embrace as Piers slowly glided his crotch against the wet fabric. The effect on Chris was immediate. He arched his back, desperate for contact as the two rifles yearned for their partner behind the grey fabric. He held Piers at his waist, grinding the lean body across his own, the sensation through the wet cloth almost too much to bear. Piers was kneeling on the bed, his weight on his arms as his delicate hips began to dance and kiss over the sensitive rigid barrel, feeling his heart starting to race again as the thermostat and Chris’ body radiated heat across the room.

He slipped the damp and musty fabric off Chris’ hairy thighs and tossed it aside as they now thrust skin on skin, the thicker, precum slicken shaft basting over Piers’ own sensitive flesh. He could feel the patience of Chris waning as his movements became faster and faster, desperate for stimulation, the dark pink glistening helmet making a slimy mess over both their treasure trails.

Piers himself couldn’t bear to wait. He gently held the starving flesh and gave a solid squeeze as he felt the warm and engorged pillar filling his entire palm with the familiar girth just like the handle of his trademark rifle. He hungrily milked the sizeable flesh as the Captain groaned and squeezed his pillow.

“You’re so big and hard, Chrissy”, Piers teased. “Show me how much you want it.”

Chris responded by moaning and thrusting his member in and out of the sniper’s firm grip, relishing in how the trained palms always cloaked him like a glove. Piers placed his other hand on the captain’s taint and gave a little prod. The muscled hunk bucked and groaned at the expert gunplay and his face was a mixture of agony and ecstasy.

Piers picked up the pace of his strokes, massaging the captains’ sweaty, silky twins while caressing the shaft. He cradled the prized package, looked Chris right in the eyes and sank his way down to take the sizeable barrel one inch at a time right between those full and vibrant lips.

The room drowned in the reverberations of deep masculine growls and groans as Chris felt the warmth moisture envelop his strength. In this moment, there was neither captain, BSAA nor bioterrorism. There was only him and his Piers, and the golden light in the room. He was a quivering, shivering mess on the sheets, and all he was aware of was the sight of the most beautiful soft latte coloured hair bobbing up and down his hips, and the sensation of warm moist comfort and hunger over his sensitive male spear. The only way he could show his appreciation was through his more and more vocal moans and groans and the syllables of P’s and S’s as his hardness was wrapped in eternal warmth.

Sniper control breathing came in place for the third time that morning. Piers was focusing intently on the massive shaft of his lover, enveloping the pride of his Captain for as long as he could with wetness and stimulation. Hearing the heavy grunts in the room had instilled life back in his own unit and he finally felt the familiar digging of his straight steely shaft into his abs. He found the bottle of lube under the bed and lavished it on Chris and himself as his fingers glided over every groove and ridge of his lover’s hairy groin. He helped Chris flip over on his knees as the bigger man stroked himself slowly and gently slipped a long slick finger into the warm tight opening.

Chris felt the blood rush to his face as his inner sanctum opened to the inquisitive, bouncy visitor. Piers was doing things inside that disarmed him of all control.  Piers wasted no time in unlatching his Captain’s safety from within and Chris began leaking again, slick fluids basting his treasure trail into a slimy mess as he panted for breath. The lone finger swept left and right, performing the duty of the valiant point man as it scouted out the narrow passage towards the illusive objective. The point man was soon joined by his partner, eventually a third, and all Piers could feel as the trio explored the tight canal was the radiant heat of Chris’ body and the intoxicating mixture of sweat and musk over the hormone flushed skin. Piers gripped himself, satisfied again with his unit’s arousal and hardness and warmed himself up. Though he could still feel the remnants of soreness from the morning struggles, his own barrel was rock solid and aimed straight home. He sheathed himself with latex and lube in an instant, and gave the muscular, padded cheek a light, tight smack to signal his entrance.

“Pierssssssssss.” Chris moaned his lover’s name as he felt the heat and the size of his partner at the gates. “Take me now soldier” he offered, and surrendered his mind unto the overwhelming sensation.  
“Capt'in, I'm coming in” Piers inched forward, giving ample time to steer his rifle down to the hilt, amazed as ever at just how hot and tight it was within the Captain’s quarters. Chris was feeling the jolts and ribs of Piers’ gun, feeling himself stretching to accommodate the sizeable anchor that at once brought so much fullness and joy. As the pair settled to a steady rhythm, Chris once again was enraptured by the junior’s precision and self-control. Each stroke was impeccably controlled in length and time as if it was a military cadence, each drill a precise and calculated rep as if it was an assessment during boot camp. Chris knew he could never achieve that level of concentration and control in himself against the pleasures of the flesh. The BSAA’s living legend of control, marksmanship and willpower always gave a flawless performance at the horizontal dance.

Piers worked steadily, postponing his pleasure as he watched Chris succumb further and further to the abyss of pleasure.  Then, just as the Captain became comfortable, Piers’ rhythm changed, the ballet inspired prelude of long and hard now unfurling into a waltz of light, light, heavy. Chris was leaking like a tap and he held himself steady, entranced on the bars of rhythmic and carnal delights which ebbed and flowed from his sharpshooting partner, wincing at the occasional slap and pat on his own hulking cheeks that left him stinging and warm. He had resigned to the superior touches and sensations that left him captured and powerless.  His thoughts were a whirwind of Piers, of himself, of Piers' hardness, of the way the sheets were wrinkling and even the extra laundry they'd had to do.  His mind and body were as if they were in parallel planes, each freely experiencing the fleeting thoughts, sensations and touches of body and spirit and feeling very much the present.

Piers took his time in delighting his partner, each stroke an affirmation of his love and tender care. Eventually he felt Chris melt away in his arms like a baby and decided to shift to act three. He groped the massive pecs and planted a kiss on the nape of Chris’ neck signalling for him to turn around. The BSAA founder laid on his back, hips up and the blanket tossed aside as Piers renewed the assault on his Captain. The pair gazed eye to eye, occasionally breaking away from embarassment, with the passion dancing like wildfire in the transformative hazel eyes, softening and melting the resolve and control from the misty dark chocolate irises. Chris clawed at Piers’ back as he felt the sensation building from deep within. The once regular thrusts were now an irregular and unpredictable tango as Piers stayed one-step ahead of his Captain, teasing and prodding, leading and chasing the love of his life towards his most carnal of thirsts. For now, there was only the look of concentration and intent on Piers, the contorted features of ecstasy on Chris, and an unintelligible flurry of moans and groans as each ascended and edged closer and closer to the apex of physical proximity and intimacy.

Chris could no longer think responsibly. He let himself go, tossing aside all inhibitions and let Piers take it out of him. He wanted to pop, and he wanted Piers to take him now. He couldn’t even say Piers’ name anymore, his voice permitting only a trail of hisses and winces. Piers fed off the desperation, leading the two along the thundering finale of a symphonic dance, a song of ascents through thundering heights and agonizing lows, of soaring strings and repressed horns, a theme and harmony telling the tales and desires of Captain and Partner. He felt Chris tighten and led him home, stroking in deep and allowing Chris to freefall gently from his blissful climax, coating the pair with his sacred nectar, the powerful contractions anointing the latte hair and creamy skin with his vivid, musky essence until both their loins were now a potent mixture of sweat, tears, and spicy, milky rum. Piers delayed his soreness and anguish just long enough to give his captain reprieve, but the renewed stimulation propelled himself along to his own zenith, pulling out just in time to fire a seemingly unending barrage of heavy, milky bullets onto the stubble and muscles of his Captain and lover.

Trust and intimacy hung thick in the silent gaze as the passion and hurt were all but released in the tidal surges and echoes of love. The rollercoaster of emotions contrasted all the more with the intimacy and consumption of their shared exertion.  

The pair held still, lying peacefully in each others' arms in afterglow amidst the last golden tendrils of dawn. No word were exchanged, just the loud, recovering breaths from two fulfilled souls in one united partnership. The slow, chesty cycles of Chris, and the staggered, controlled cycles of Piers.

 

_Breathe. Hold. Breathe._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kinda amazing what came out of a one shot, and I learnt a lot doing this. I have more adventures of Chris and Piers, and it might be in this story or another story, but at this stage, this mini story line is complete. This fic has been a first time for me in absolutely everything as a writer and I'd love to hear your feedback on what you loved and what you think could be improved. Thank you for the support and hope you enjoyed the story!
> 
> Also, happy birthday in advance to puppypiers69, this chapter hopefully ticked off your shopping list of everything you liked. I had been taking notes.  
> Piers got Chris back at the end.


End file.
